


Unworthy

by LuckyLadybug



Series: Exit the Fly [18]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 1987)
Genre: Brothers, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Gen, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sibling Rivalry, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9342176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyLadybug/pseuds/LuckyLadybug
Summary: 1987 series, my Exit the Fly verse. Baxter observes some more of Vernon's contradictory behavior towards April and Irma and begins to suspect that there's another reason behind it. At the same time, he also has to deal with his mother's desire to reconnect with Barney and Barney's utter refusal to see her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are not mine and the story is! Thanks to ThickerThanLove for intriguing thoughts on Vernon, and on Michelangelo and Barney! This is part of my Exit the Fly verse, which is set either in late season 7 or an alternate season 8. Baxter is human again and an ally of the Turtles. His brother Barney works for Shredder.

Baxter sighed as he entered his apartment late that night and sank down in front of his computer. He had just come back from dinner with his mother, and that had ended with her asking him something that he wasn't sure if he could deliver. He reached and turned on the computer as her words ran through his mind again.

_"I'd really like to see Barney too. Do you know how to get in touch with him?"_

_"Well, yes . . ."_

_"Wonderful! Will you contact him and find out if he will meet me?"_

_"I'll try. . . ."_

Really, Baxter hadn't known what to say. He didn't even know how Barney felt about their parents. He never talked about them. But his anger always seemed to be directed at Baxter and not them, so maybe, possibly he would be willing to see their mother.

His stomach churned as the Desktop loaded and he clicked on his email program. All the way home he had been trying to think of how to phrase what he had to ask, but here he was, still nervous, still wondering exactly how to go about it. As the New Email screen loaded, he took a deep breath and just plunged in.

_Hello, Barney. I hope you're doing well._

_I . . . don't quite know how to say this. . . . I've seen our mother a couple of times recently and she seems to want to reconnect with us. Tonight she asked me if I would contact you and see if you would meet with her. I don't like being put in the middle, but I didn't know what to say except that I would try. I was certain you would prefer that I ask you rather than to give her your private email._

_Baxter_

He filled in the email address and then frowned at the problem of a subject line. Sometimes that was the most difficult part to figure out. Finally he just left it as No Subject and hit Send.

He checked for a new message as he got ready for bed, but when there was still no response when he was finished, he sighed and closed down the computer. Barney was probably working on some new project for Krang. Or maybe he was actually asleep.

Which was what Baxter should do right now. He turned out the lights and sank into bed, but for a while he stared up at the ceiling, wide awake.

Theirs had never been the ideal family, even though everyone around them seemed to think they were. Their neighbors and their father's coworkers and employees and their mother's friends never knew of the pain and hurt and anger of the twin boys. They had been largely neglected, with their parents too caught up in their social activities to pay them much heed. And, as Baxter had told Michelangelo, he and Barney had never even been told that they were good. The lack of love they had felt from their parents had certainly had a negative effect on both of them. Baxter really couldn't blame Barney if he said No. But he hoped Barney would say something. He didn't know what he would tell their mother if Barney didn't.

He still didn't really have a great deal of hope for a full reconciliation. The woman seemed sincere, and she had even tried to enjoy herself at the Channel 6 Christmas Eve party Baxter had taken her to, but she clearly felt very awkward and wasn't quite sure how to even be a loving mother after over forty years of failing at it. Baxter wondered what would hurt worse: trying and failing, or never having tried at all.

At last he fell into a troubled sleep.

****

When Baxter awoke in the morning, the first thing he did was to sleepily look over at his Smartphone on the nightstand. It was silently flashing; there was a new email. Quickly he sat up and clicked on it, his heart gathering speed again. His shoulders slumped at the contents.

_No, I will not meet her._

_Barney_

Baxter groaned. That was not very helpful at all. He had hoped for a little something more. Even though he needed to hurry to get ready for work, he tapped out a short reply.

_I understand, and I don't blame you. But what am I going to tell her?_

_Baxter_

He didn't receive another response until after he had eaten breakfast and was rushing out the door. As he descended the steps to the ground floor, his phone beeped. He waited until he arrived in the lobby before taking it out and looking.

_I don't ever want to see her or our father again. You can tell her that._

_Barney_

Baxter cringed. This was not a good start to his day. And he imagined from the venom just under the surface of these messages that Barney was probably in an even worse mood than he was. Maybe he had been awake all night, upset over that wound being torn open again.

Baxter slipped the phone back in his pocket. Maybe he would try to think of a reply on the way to work. He didn't like to leave this thread as it was. But right now he needed to hurry and go.

****

Channel 6 seemed to be in its usual, slightly chaotic state that morning. When Baxter arrived, April was in Burne's office, Irma was answering the phone, and Vernon was in his office, opening an envelope. Baxter glanced over out of the corner of his eye and frowned a bit when he saw Vernon's expression turn from cautious anticipation to knowing devastation and resignation. He paused, wondering if he should inquire as to what was the matter.

Vernon slumped over his desk for a moment. Then, apparently hearing the voices in Burne's office, he got up and came into the hall. April was just coming out.

"And where are you going so early in the morning?" Vernon asked.

"A new assignment," April told him. "A big explosion at a chemical plant!"

"Hmm. That's exactly the sort of assignment I should get," Vernon said. "Then I could show Mr. Thompson that I'm the one who deserves to be this network's star reporter."

April rolled her eyes. "You've had your chance more than once at those kinds of assignments, Vernon, and you always foul them up because you're too scared to deal with what's happening."

Irma, who had just hung up the phone, looked over in annoyance. "Yeah, Vernon. Seriously, what is your deal? Sometimes you actually act nice. Then it's not long and you're turning against us again."

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about," Vernon sneered.

"I don't think Vernon knows what his deal is, Irma," April said. "His problem is he doesn't seem to think he's doing anything wrong."

"Like he thinks all friends act that way? Get real." Irma turned back to her computer.

Vernon just marched back to his office. "Well, have fun, April," he said smoothly, not acknowledging any of the rest of the conversation.

"I sure will!" April snapped.

Baxter frowned. What Vernon had read in that envelope had seemed to influence what he had done next. The question was why? Maybe Baxter would give Vernon some space for a few minutes and then try to find out what was wrong. Right now he wanted to get a reply typed back to Barney. He had finally thought of what he could say. After greeting April and Irma, he hurried into his office and settled down with his phone.

_I'm sorry I had to bother you about this, Barney. I didn't know what else to do._

_Baxter_

He was surprised when the next reply came in quickly.

_It figures that she tried to reconnect with you first._

_Barney_

Baxter flinched. Something told him that he was treading on very thin and very dangerous ice. But how could he leave the thread like this, either?

_What do you mean?_

_Baxter_

He set the phone aside and tried to look over the materials that had been placed on his desk. There were three scripts he needed to look over and he had a lunch appointment with Derrick Matthews. It was going to be a busy day. He didn't see how he could focus on the problem with Vernon right now. Or on the problem with Barney, for that matter. But circumstances out of his control seemed to dictate that he would have to focus on at least the latter, and that if he tried not to, he would only make himself further upset and unable to work.

The phone beeped again. Swallowing hard, Baxter picked it up.

_She and Father always liked you best. They didn't love either of us, but you were always the one they noticed the most. They never wanted twins. They just wanted you. I never wanted twins, either._

_Barney_

"Oh. . . ." Baxter slumped back in the chair. Now he really didn't know how to respond. He ran his now-shaking hands down his face. He was right that a wound had been torn open, but it hadn't stopped at Barney's feelings towards their parents. He was apparently feeling newly venomous towards Baxter now as well.

He pushed the phone away and picked up the first script. He had to focus. He turned the title page and started reading the storyline. When he reached the bottom of the page, he realized he had no idea what he had just read. The same thing happened when he tried a second time.

Groaning, he set the script down and went for his Turtle-Comm. Maybe he could calm down if he spoke with someone from a stable family unit.

"Hi, Baxter," Leonardo greeted after a moment. "How are you doing?"

Baxter sighed. "To be honest, not very well today. I . . . wanted your input on something."

Leonardo promptly sobered. "What is it?" he asked.

"Well, last night I saw my mother again," Baxter explained. "She wanted to see Barney and asked if I knew how to reach him. I didn't know what to say except yes, and to agree to ask him if he would see her when she asked if I would.

"I've been communicating with Barney off and on since then through email. He was very clipped for a long time. I had to drag the answers out of him one sentence at a time. I had to know what he thought on the matter and what I should tell Mother. Now he . . . he finally snapped and said something hurtful to me. It shouldn't be a surprise, really . . . but it just feels like more than I can deal with right now." He rubbed his forehead. "If you don't mind my asking, hasn't there ever been an occasion where you or one of the others felt that another Turtle was Splinter's favorite?"

Leonardo hesitated. ". . . I guess there were some times in the past when Raphael felt that I was," he said carefully.

"And how did he get over that?" Baxter asked.

"I think it was mostly how Master Splinter handled it," Leonardo said. "He's always tried to treat all of us the same, celebrating our strengths and pointing out our weaknesses. Finally Raphael came to believe it. But if you'd like to talk to him about it firsthand . . ."

"No," Baxter quickly interrupted. "No, I . . . I'd rather not right now."

"That's fine," Leonardo nodded. Though nothing more was said, he seemed to understand. Raphael would likely throw in criticisms of Barney and that would only stress Baxter worse.

"Thank you for talking with me, Leonardo," Baxter said. "I . . . I just felt I needed to speak with someone who comes from a happy family."

"Are you going to be alright, Baxter?" Leonardo looked worried now. Baxter hadn't seemed so vulnerable in a while. The sadness in his eyes and voice were very prominent. Whatever Barney had said, it had pierced him. It had to have been worse than just that their parents had liked Baxter best. But unless Baxter volunteered the information, Leonardo didn't like to ask what it was.

"Y-Yes," Baxter stammered. "I'll be alright. I . . . I just need some time."

"Okay." Leonardo didn't look convinced. "I'll be here if you want to talk more."

Baxter was about to press the button to end the conversation, but instead he paused. "It's so hard," he whispered at last, "to be told that your brother wishes you had never been born."

"What?!" Leonardo gasped.

Baxter started, his eyes widening in guilt. He hadn't really meant to say that aloud. He had wanted to say what was really wrong, yet he hadn't wanted to make the Turtles despise Barney even more than they already did.

"Nevermind," he said hurriedly. "Forget I said that. Thank you for listening, Leonardo." And he ended the conversation.

****

Leonardo frowned in concern as the Turtle-Comm screen went blank. "Baxter . . ."

"What's up, Leonardo?" Michelangelo asked as he suddenly appeared and looked over the blue-masked Turtle's shoulder. "Was that Baxter?"

"Yes, it was," Leonardo said.

"So what's wrong? Is Tin Grin doing some new evil plot?"

"Not right now," Leonardo shook his head. "Baxter is having some . . . other problems."

"What other problems?" Michelangelo was completely serious now. He came around to look Leonardo in the eyes. His own were filled with worry. Leonardo seemed so troubled that Michelangelo couldn't believe the problem wasn't monumental.

Leonardo hesitated. "I guess he didn't tell me in confidence, but I feel funny about repeating it in every detail. Barney said something that really hurt him deeply and he wanted to talk to someone who had a happy family relationship."

"Oh wow." Michelangelo looked down at the Turtle-Comm. "That sounds mondo serious. Usually Baxter doesn't show how hurt he is when Barney says something crummy."

"I have to admit, I'm worried," Leonardo said. "I don't remember ever seeing him look that shaken before."

"Do you think we should go out there?" Michelangelo asked.

Leonardo glanced at the clock. "Since he's supposed to be working, maybe we should give him a little time and then try calling him back."

"Why wait if you're worried?!" Michelangelo retorted. "You're not usually worried, Baxter's not usually so upset . . . !" He headed for the door. "I'm going out there now. I'll just make sure he's okay."

Leonardo opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. "Baxter's lucky to have you for a friend," he said instead.

"Yeah, I know," said Michelangelo. "But we're lucky that he's our friend too, so it all evens out. See you, Leonardo." He waved and headed out the exit.

Leonardo smiled and shook his head.

"Where's Michelangelo going?"

Leonardo turned at the sound of Donatello's voice. He and Raphael were coming into the living room from the kitchen.

"He's going into town to check on Baxter," Leonardo said. At the same time, he wondered how much he should say around Raphael when Baxter clearly hadn't wanted to discuss his problems with Raphael. Leonardo knew Raphael would be concerned too. But he didn't want to be the catalyst for opening up more problems regarding Raphael and Barney.

"So . . . why does he need to check on Baxter?" Raphael raised an eyebrow.

"Baxter was feeling kind of down today and Michelangelo wanted to cheer him up," Leonardo said. Well, that was pretty much true. Just not the whole truth.

Raphael frowned. "Barney problems?"

Leonardo sighed. "Well . . . yes. Partially. Family problems in general."

Raphael shook his head. "Man, that poor guy's got just about the most messed-up family I've ever seen, aside from Shred-Head's."

Donatello nodded. "It's probably no wonder Shredder got into crime when his mother was a supervillain."

"And yet his little brother is a police officer," Raphael snarked. "Go figure. I wonder what their dad's like."

"Most likely one of the good guys," Donatello said. "He was probably the positive influence on Shredder's brother."

"Too bad he couldn't have been a positive influence on both kids, huh?" Raphael said.

"And yet the really weird thing is that we owe our current existence to Shredder," Donatello said. "If he hadn't sent that mutagen into the sewers, we never would have been transformed."

"Isn't that just the ultimate irony?" Raphael said dryly. He sighed. "On the other hand, Master Splinter's life sure would've been better if Shredder hadn't turned into a bad guy. Baxter's too."

"Do not be so sure, my student."

Everyone turned in surprise as Splinter came into the room. "Master Splinter," Leonardo said by way of greeting.

Splinter walked over to the couch and leaned on his walking stick. "While it is true that both Dr. Stockman and I would have not experienced some of the heartaches in our lives were it not for Shredder, we also wouldn't have had many of our happinesses." He straightened. "Dr. Stockman has said that his life has mostly been sorrowful except for the last several months. He has benefited greatly from your friendships with him . . . as I have from being your sensei."

Raphael frowned. "So . . . does that mean we have to be grateful that Shred-Head's caused so much heartache, because that's the only way to get to the happiness?"

"It means that there can even be a point to heartache," Splinter said. "Many times, wonderful blessings can be borne from the ashes of tragedy." He looked firmly at each of the three Turtles. "And even though I certainly would have preferred not to have mutated into a rat, I am glad for it because it has allowed us to share our lives together."

Leonardo smiled. "And I'm sure glad for that too."

"Me too," said Donatello.

"Oh, of course I am too," Raphael said. "I guess I just wish we didn't have to have the bad to have the good."

"As does everyone," said Splinter. "But only by having both do we grow."

The Turtles looked down and slowly nodded. "That makes sense," Leonardo said.

"We wouldn't even know what happiness is if we didn't have something opposite to compare it to," Donatello said.

"Exactly," said Splinter. "But nevertheless, I hope that Dr. Stockman's current sorrows will not last."

"Hey, if anyone can cheer him up, it's Michelangelo," Raphael said.

****

"Barney, how could you say that to Baxter?"

Barney was pacing up and down his laboratory like a caged animal. Part of him wanted to simply ignore Vincent's reproving question. He wasn't in the mood to be lectured by his conscience right now. But the other part of him wanted to talk.

"He knows I've always hated him," he said at last.

"Yes, but you've never actually said that horrible thing to him, have you?" Vincent pressed.

". . . No, I haven't." Barney stopped pacing. "The only person I ever told before was . . . whoever that man was Krang kidnapped on Christmas Eve."

"At least write Baxter back and tell him you don't feel that way any more," Vincent pleaded. "We both know you really love him . . . even though you're still struggling with your feelings of hatred too."

"He knows it too," Barney said impatiently. "He's probably sitting there making excuses for me right now."

"Barney, it's been a long time since he's sent an email. He's crushed."

"He's at work by now," Barney countered. "He's busy."

"You don't know that's the reason."

"And you don't know that he's 'crushed'!" Barney shot back. "Everyone always thinks about his feelings. Why doesn't anyone ever think about my feelings?! Why am I always the one pushed to the side? The one no one ever even notices unless they're looking for Baxter? I was lucky if I was seen as Baxter Stockman's brother! Usually I was mistaken for Baxter himself! No one ever apologized. No one ever thought it was something to be upset about! I never had my own identity!" He threw a wrench across the room. "Our parents were always ashamed of me! I was never good enough for them! And now our mother thinks she can just blow back into my life after years of doing nothing?! I hate her! I hate them! I hate my whole rotten family!" He threw himself down at his desk and folded his arms on it before resting his head on them and silently trembling.

"Oh Barney," Vincent said sadly. There was so much pain in this family. Barney and Baxter were each hurting so much, but Barney's anger kept him from fully reaching out to Baxter. Instead he hurt Baxter more and more because of his own pain and the problem kept getting worse.

After a moment Barney finally looked up. "I know it was never Baxter's fault," he said quietly. "He couldn't help that everyone liked him more. He never tried to make that happen; he was always such a mild and meek recluse." He gave a heavy sigh. "That's probably why they liked him. He was the gentle one. His personality was so endearing, as opposed to my bold and forward and angry behavior."

"What are you going to do?" Vincent asked.

Barney drew the laptop closer to him. "I need to tell him something, you're right. But I don't know what to say. I've never known how to repair any of the damage I've done."

"You could start by saying you're sorry," Vincent said.

"It's just an empty word," Barney retorted. "'Sorry' doesn't make anything right."

"By itself it doesn't," Vincent agreed. "But it's a first step."

Barney frowned, tapping his finger on the edge of the laptop as he studied the email screen. "This could take a while."

"Well, don't take too long," Vincent pleaded. "Baxter needs to hear from you."

At last Barney sighed and started to type.

****

Baxter slipped the Turtle-Comm into his pocket and pushed himself up. He really needed to get his mind on something else. Maybe he could try talking to Vernon now . . . although he really didn't know that he was in much of a condition to try to fix anyone's problems. He couldn't even fix his own.

Vernon was still in his office when Baxter approached. He was typing rapidly on his computer and glowering at the screen. For a moment Baxter shrank back. He wasn't in the mood to have someone else snap at him right now. But then, sighing, he gave a single knock at the door. "Mr. Fenwick?"

Vernon looked up. "What do you want?" he asked in annoyance.

Baxter was tempted to just turn and walk out. But instead he slowly walked in. "I . . . couldn't help but notice how upset you were by that piece of mail you were looking at," he said. "And then you were rude with Miss O'Neil and Miss Langinstein right after that. I wondered if . . . well, if you might like to talk about it. . . ."

"Talk about what? My mail?" Vernon leaned back. "It's really not any of your business."

"Y-Yes . . . I know. . . . I . . . I'm sorry, I don't mean to impose. . . ." Inwardly Baxter kicked himself. He really wasn't in any condition for this. Now he sounded like he had so many times when Shredder had abused him. He had thought that part of him was gone. Clearly it wasn't.

"Good. Then don't." But to his surprise, Vernon suddenly paused and looked over. "Wait a minute. What's wrong with you today? You don't have your usual spark."

"I . . . it's nothing. Anyway, I came here to talk about your problem, not mine."

"I don't have a problem," Vernon muttered.

Emboldened, Baxter came closer. "I think you do. Everyone knows how you blow hot and cold. Sometimes you can be quite egocentric. Then you're filled with self-loathing. One day, you can be fairly kind to Miss O'Neil and Miss Langinstein. The next, you're treating them like slime under your shoe. It's obvious you do care about them, so why do you make such a show of not caring?" He folded his arms. "It could simply be that you are shallow enough that you think you haven't done anything wrong, as Miss O'Neil said. But I don't believe that."

"Why not?" Vernon snapped. "Everyone else does."

"You have shown that you are not as weak or as foolish as people think you are," Baxter said. "You're an intelligent man. I believe your conceit is an act and that you know very well what you're doing. What I don't know is why."

"Why?" Vernon's eyes flashed. Then abruptly, the fire was gone and he looked despondent again. "They deserve better than me. I just have to make sure they know that."

Baxter stared at him in shock. "You're deliberately behaving badly to push them away?!"

"Yes, I am," Vernon confessed.

"But why on Earth . . ." Baxter shook his head. "What do you think you've done that's so horrible? Besides being a coward and leaving them to face danger without you, that is."

"I'm just a miserable failure in general." Vernon stood. "And I've already said more than I meant to say. I really don't know why I said anything to you at all."

"Mr. Fenwick, I really would like to help," Baxter said.

"No one can help!" Vernon snarled. "That's the whole problem!" He stormed around his desk, accidentally knocking his trash can over in the process. But instead of bothering to pick it up, he brushed past Baxter and headed off down the hall.

Baxter turned and watched Vernon go. Normally he would have left right after him, but then he noticed that one of the rolled-up paper balls from the trash had landed near his foot. The words son and failure caught his eye and he frowned down at the mysterious piece of paper. Maybe this was what had come in the mail today. He knew he really shouldn't, but he bent down to pick it up and smoothed it out enough to read.

_Son:_

_Your request for your trust fund to be opened up to you is denied. Your failure to meet our stipulations and make something of yourself forces us to make this decision. If you were more like your sister Alice, we wouldn't even be having this discussion. Please do not write us again until you have made achievements sufficient enough to match hers._

_Sincerely,  
Your Father_

Baxter felt sickened as he crumpled the letter up again as per Vernon's apparent wishes. So he wasn't the only one dealing with family problems today. And the cold letter from Vernon's father reminded Baxter all too much of his own struggles attempting to access his trust fund. Not to mention that Vernon being considered a failure compare to his sibling sounded a lot like how Barney felt his and Baxter's parents had treated him.

Baxter sighed heavily and trudged into the corridor. Vernon was long gone and Baxter still wasn't sure what to say to him. Barney would probably be able to commiserate with him better. Of course, on the other hand, Barney might encourage Vernon's anger, for all Baxter would know.

"Baxter?"

He jumped a mile. "Michelangelo!" he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The orange-masked Turtle was walking out from around a corner. "Like, I heard from Leonardo that you were feeling mondo bummed out today and I thought I should come check on you," he explained.

Touched, Baxter walked over to him. "I'm alright," he said. "Did Leonardo tell you exactly what was wrong?"

"Just that Barney had really got you down," Michelangelo said. "I guess he thought that if I heard the whole story, it should be from you."

"That sounds like Leonardo," Baxter said with a faint smile.

They started walking towards Baxter's office.

"So like, why would Barney suddenly snap at you now?" Michelangelo asked. "I thought things were at least a little better between you two."

"I guess I thought so too," Baxter admitted. "That was stupid of me. Of course Barney still has years of hatred built up against me. That won't go away easily. And when I piled a little more stress on him, some more of that hatred broke free."

Michelangelo blinked. "Whoa, _you_ gave him something else to be upset about? What the heck did you do?"

They reached the office and Baxter pushed the door open. When Michelangelo had come inside, Baxter shut it again. "I tried to find out if he was willing to see our mother," he said. "She wanted me to ask him. I thought maybe he didn't feel as hateful towards our parents as he does towards me, but I'm afraid he does." He sank into his chair. "He won't have anything to do with them. And when I know his reasons, I have a hard time blaming him."

"No way." Michelangelo sat in the chair facing Baxter and the desk. "How could anyone just want to cut off all ties with their parents? I mean, they wouldn't even be here without them!"

Baxter stiffened. "Oh no."

Michelangelo blinked. "Oh no what?"

Baxter grabbed his phone and started looking through the emails. "Barney said that our parents never wanted twins; they only wanted me. What Barney said that hurt me so deeply was that he never wanted twins either. I took it to mean he wished that I had never been born. What if instead he meant he wished that he hadn't?!"

"Uh oh." Michelangelo leaned forward. "You don't think he'd get so upset that he might . . . you know . . . try to end it all, do you?"

"No, I don't," Baxter said. "I think he'd keep living out of spite, if nothing else. But I didn't even reply to him because I was so hurt. I should have asked him to clarify what he meant. It never occurred to me that maybe he meant anything other than what I thought." Immediately he clicked on the last message and then the Reply button.

_What do you mean, Barney?_

_Baxter_

He sighed and set the phone aside again to tensely wait for a response. "And in answer to your question, Michelangelo, the sad fact is that some families are so toxic that the only way to heal is to get away from them. It's not that the child necessarily feels ingratitude for the parents giving them life; it's that the parents subsequently haven't treated them right, at least in the child's eyes, and having any contact with them is only hurtful and detrimental to their well-being."

"Man, I just can't see it," Michelangelo said. "I mean, I know there's some mondo rotten parents out there, and that's hard enough to swallow. But I just can't process a kid not wanting to have anything to do with them at all. I mean, it's their parents!"

Baxter gave him a sad smile. "And I hope you will never have to understand what could prompt such feelings. You're too good, Michelangelo. You don't deserve to have your outlook tarnished by some of the ugly truths about human nature."

Michelangelo looked down. ". . . Do you think Barney will ever feel different?"

"I don't know." Baxter stared off at the opposite wall. "Barney and I have both experienced little else but pain and sorrow in our lives. I have finally started to find happiness, but Barney has not. He doesn't get over things easily. He certainly doesn't forgive easily. He is drowning in his own unhappiness. And while some of it is of his own making, not all of it is."

". . . Maybe it would make him feel a little better if I told him I forgive him for what he did to me."

Baxter blinked in surprise. "Michelangelo . . ."

"I mean, I know I told him that I still believe in him and all, but I didn't actually say I forgive him," Michelangelo continued. "And I really do."

Baxter shook his head, suddenly overwhelmed. "I can't even say that I've forgiven Barney for everything he's done to me and we're brothers. And here you are, someone who hardly ever sees Barney at all and doesn't know him intimately, and you are freely offering forgiveness to him for turning you to gold?"

"Well, yeah," Michelangelo said. "I'm not angry at him for doing that to me any more than I'm angry at you for turning me into a gerbil."

Baxter slowly smiled. "I don't think I will ever truly understand you, Michelangelo. But I wish I did." He hesitated. "I honestly can't say how Barney would feel if you told him you forgive him. He might become angry because he feels he doesn't deserve it. But . . ." He pondered on the matter and then nodded. "I think it would have a deep effect on him. It might even help him, for all I'd know."

"Then I'll tell him!" Michelangelo determined. "The next time I see him, I'll tell him!"

The phone beeped. Swallowing his dread and fear, Baxter picked it up and clicked the email.

_Nevermind what I meant. I never should have said that. It's how I felt in the past, but not anymore. You have tried so hard to help me and I've only pushed you away and hurt you at every turn. I am furious that our mother is back in your life because I know she will only hurt you again. I am furious that she is trying to get back in my life because I do not want to be hurt by her again. And you can tell her that, too. Thank you, for your consideration in telling me about her instead of giving her my contact information. You have always been a better brother to me than I am to you._

_Barney_

Baxter started to shakily smile. "It's alright," he said. "Barney's alright. And I'm starting to feel a lot better."

"So . . . what did he mean?" Michelangelo asked.

"Frankly, I'm afraid he meant what I thought he meant in the first place," Baxter said. "But he says he doesn't feel that way anymore." He leaned back, looking almost awed. "He feels different now."

"Of course he feels different now!" Michelangelo grinned. "You've been a great brother and he can't help but realize that. Deep down, he's glad you're here. And little by little, I really think you're starting to get through to him."

"Yes, I think so too," said Baxter. "Maybe the hatred and hurt will never go away entirely. But maybe someday Barney will be able to find the happiness he deserves and believes he doesn't."

A movement outside the office window that faced the corridor brought him to attention. Vernon was briskly walking past, probably heading back to his office. And now Baxter felt he had the strength to try to face the other hurting man again.

He clicked the Reply button to type a quick message to Barney.

_Thank you for your reply, Barney. It means a great deal to me. I will pass along your feelings to Mother._

_Baxter_

Then he slipped the phone into his pocket and stood. "Thank you for coming to see me, Michelangelo," he said sincerely. "You truly did help me through this rough time. I'm glad I had someone to talk to."

"Hey, no problem, Dude," Michelangelo said, standing as well. "I guess you need to get back to work, huh?"

"Yes," Baxter said, "but there's something else I need to do first."

"Gnarly," Michelangelo said. "Hey, you wanna come over tonight?"

"I'd like that," Baxter said.

"We'll see you then!" Michelangelo waved and headed out.

Baxter smiled, watching him go. He waited until the Turtle had left on the elevator before heading for Vernon's office. This was private between the two of them.

Vernon had picked up the fallen trash and was scowling at a report when Baxter approached. "Now what is it?" he said in irritation.

Baxter entered and shut the door behind him. "When you knocked the trash can over, I saw what must have come in the mail today," he said. "I know I shouldn't have, but I picked it up and looked at it."

Vernon didn't seem terribly surprised. "Well, that figures," he grumped. "Why not? You might as well know how pathetic I am. You've picked apart all these other things about me."

"I've 'picked apart' good things about you, things that no one was willing to believe in except me!" Baxter came closer, spreading his hands on the edge of the desk. "And what your father said to you doesn't change any of that one bit!"

Vernon leaned back, draping one arm over the back of his chair as he looked away. "How could you know what it feels like?" he said bitterly. "All my life I've lived in my sister's shadow. She was always everything I'm not. Brave, willing to take a risk. Kind, compassionate! Someone people actually like. I was always the coward, the one hiding at the first sign of trouble and abandoning everyone else to be safe."

"So you've always found yourself dealing with spunky women," Baxter remarked.

"You could say that. I guess sometimes I push April and Irma away because I'm so frustrated that they're stronger and braver than I am. I want to prove that I'm worth something too! But I always fail. I'm just not brave like they are and I know I never can be." Vernon leaned forward, running his hands through his hair.

“Rather than just trying to prove that you can handle the assignments too, you usually seem to try to do it by unnecessarily putting them down,” Baxter pointed out. “Especially Miss O’Neil.”

“I know. Maybe because that was what was always done to me. I don’t know.” Vernon sighed. “I know it’s wrong and it’s not very nice and it’s certainly not what one does to their friends. But I don’t deserve to have them as friends in the first place.”

"And what is your explanation for repeatedly trying to ruin Miss O'Neil's reputation on the air?" Baxter asked. "I suppose technically one could say you're just reporting the news when it looks like she's in a compromising situation. I'm sure Mr. Thompson makes you take those stories. But you do it with such relish that you obviously have some personal axe to grind."

Vernon wouldn't meet his gaze. "I want to bring her down a few pegs so she isn't so perfect," he mumbled.

"That makes you feel better?"

A shrug. "Sometimes. Or it's supposed to. It doesn't, usually. Not deep down."

"Which leads, I suppose, into what you said about also pushing her and Miss Langinstein away because you basically feel unworthy and you feel they should know how hopeless you are," Baxter prompted.

"That too.”

Baxter folded his arms. “This is . . . I don’t know what to say it is.”

“Who would?” Vernon’s tone was dry and self-depreciating. “I already know it’s pathetic, so you don’t have to tell me that.”

“I still don’t understand why you think you’re such a horrible person,” Baxter said. “What you’re doing to make people think you’re horrible seems worse than anything I’ve heard about the real you.” He frowned. "And unfortunately, the more you do to make people think it is probably transforming you into that person."

"You're right," Vernon said, finally looking to him.

"That's such a dangerous path," Baxter said. "My brother Barney believes himself to be bad. It doesn't help that he actually does terrible things. He stays with Shredder and Krang because he feels he is irredeemable. I don't want to believe that he will ever push himself to the point where he actually is; there are some lines I still feel sure he won't cross. But he is being pulled in two directions. Even as I try to reach for him on a path of goodness, Krang is trying to pull him farther down the path of evil. Why on Earth do you want to leave yourself open to a similarly destructive fate?"

"Does it matter if I do?"

"Of course it matters!" Baxter exclaimed. "Even if you don't care what you do to yourself, think about the other people you're hurting! What if you actually did do damage to Miss O'Neil's career? How would you feel then?"

Vernon flinched. "That wouldn't happen," he insisted. "Everyone loves her too much."

Baxter rocked back. ". . . And your negative comments backfire and make you look terrible," he said in sudden realization. "Is that what you're counting on?!"

"I don't know if I'm deliberately counting on that," Vernon said. "But maybe in the back of my mind, I'm thinking that's probably what will happen. . . ."

Baxter slumped in a chair. He wasn't a psychiatrist. He didn't know how to ever deal with an attitude as mixed-up and backwards as Vernon's clearly was. But he had started this conversation. He had to finish it.

"Why, Mr. Fenwick?" he said at last. "Just tell me that. Why."

"My father is a powerful businessman. He has always been ashamed of me. Even as a child, I was worthless to him. My sister Alice is set to inherit the company when he dies and we're all perfectly alright with that. But I can't even do so much as to get at the money in my trust account because I always fail to meet my father's stipulations!" Vernon looked up and his eyes were filled with pain and self-loathing. "I will never be a success in his eyes."

"So you've just given up?" Baxter frowned.

"No. I keep trying to get ahead. But I always fail, and then out of my renewed despair and self-loathing . . ."

"You sabotage yourself and your friendships, feeling you don't deserve those any more than your father thinks you deserve success with your family," Baxter finished. He sat up straight. "What a vicious cycle."

"Isn't it."

"I have never been a success in my parents' eyes either," Baxter said quietly. "My brother and I also had trust funds that we could not access. We had to be in dire straits first and our definitions of 'dire straits' did not match our parents' definitions. I only have my money now because they finally gave up and put it in a regular bank account for me to access."

"Why on Earth would they do that?" Vernon frowned.

"My mother wanted me to come home," Baxter said. "That was when I was . . . missing. My father wasn't in favor of it and he still won't have anything to do with me or Barney. He won't forgive either of us for the paths we trod. More than likely, we will always be failures in his eyes."

Vernon looked at him for a long moment and then away. "At least you know you're worth something. I know I'm not."

Baxter felt sick. This was the same sort of damage that had been done to Barney. It wasn't the same level of destruction, but it was every bit as ruining. Why, he thought sadly, do some parents do this to their children? There was no easy fix for this, no magic words to wave away a lifetime of having it drilled into them that they were not good enough. Or not good at all, in Barney's case.

"I am so sorry that you've been made to feel that way about yourself," he said at last. "I'm afraid I understand better than you might think. My brother struggles with an intense self-hatred as well. I can't make you or him realize that you both are good, that you both have potential, and that you are both cared about and even loved. And more importantly, that you both do deserve to be. But I can try. I will never stop fighting for my brother. Nor will I stop fighting for you."

Vernon scoffed. "Ha! Then you really are crazy. At least where I'm concerned. I would expect you to stay true to your brother. You have no reason to concern yourself with me."

"Yes, I do," Baxter replied. "Because no one ever fought for me when I needed someone. Not until several months ago. My life completely transformed for the better then. I want to see that for Barney. And I want to see it for you."

Vernon stopped and really stared at him. "You actually mean that."

"Yes," Baxter said. "And you'll find I don't give up, no matter how nasty and despicable the person gets. Do your worst, Mr. Fenwick. Now that I know why you're acting out, your behavior won't have any effect on me."

Vernon looked down at the desk. "Well. It will be interesting to watch you try, at least. Although I don't know what you really think you can do."

"It's a long and gradual process," Baxter said. "But by constantly showing someone that they mean something to you---not just saying, but showing---it can eventually began to change their attitude." He stood and headed for the door. This conversation had run its course, but he hoped it had given Vernon something to think about.

Vernon looked up again, watching him leave, but he said nothing more. From his eyes, he didn't know what to say or how to react. But Baxter's words had certainly stirred something in him.

Outside at her desk, Irma raised an eyebrow when she saw Baxter emerging from Vernon's office. "What were you doing in there?" she frowned. Hurt and frustration flickered in her eyes, as well as disappointment. Some part of her had thought Vernon might be showing some goodness. His actions today had disillusioned her again.

"I was talking to Mr. Fenwick," Baxter answered. He came over to her. "Miss Langinstein, I don't have the right to tell you the details of what he told me about his life or what I found out on my own about him. But I want you to know that the good person you thought you saw truly is there. Don't be fooled by whatever he says or does to try to throw you from that notion. What he needs more than anything else is for someone to keep believing in him. That is what will save him and what will bring that good person out until he's strong enough and self-confident enough to keep it out all the time."

Irma blinked. "O-Okay. I'll try to take your word for it, Dr. Stockman. I know I'd like to believe there's a good person there. I've tried to get him to come out sometimes, but it never seems to work too well."

"It can take years," Baxter said softly. "But I believe you've already made a deep impression on him. Do you think he would have joined the resistance movement against Professor Moriarty for just anyone?"

"No," Irma mused. "I guess not." She hesitated. "And I know you didn't even like Vernon when you first came here, so for you to be so confident in him must mean something."

"I've learned a lot since then," Baxter said. "In his own way, Mr. Fenwick is a lost soul.”

Irma frowned. “Vernon, a lost soul? That sounds pretty off-the-wall. But . . . it sounds pretty sad too. What would make him feel like that?”

“A lifetime of sorrow,” Baxter answered. “And if you want to know more than that, you’ll have to ask him.”

Irma nodded slowly. “I think I will. He probably won’t tell me anything, but I can ask.”

Baxter was pleased. “He might tell you. It definitely won’t hurt to ask.”

He headed back to his office to look at those scripts at long last. It had been a very strange day so far, filled with a myriad of assorted emotions and feelings. Later on he would no doubt be utterly distressed again, when he would have to tell his mother what Barney had said. But meanwhile, he had new hope for himself and Barney and also new hope for Vernon. And it felt very, very good.

****

Barney had gone back to typing some ideas for his latest invention and hadn’t spoken in some time. Vincent had allowed him his silence, but now he spoke. “You feel better for not allowing that conversation thread with Baxter to stay as it was.”

“So you’re a mind-reader now?” Barney grunted.

“I know your moods quite well by now. You’re not angry at the moment. You’re fairly calm.”

“Baxter sent a message before I had the chance to figure out what to say anyway.”

“But you could have chosen to lash out at him again. Instead, you tried to patch it as best as you could.”

“And yes, I feel better for that,” Barney finally conceded. “Are you satisfied?”

“I was up with you all night while you suffered with your painful memories of your parents resurfacing. Yes, I’m not only satisfied, but happy to see you in a more peaceful frame of mind.”

Barney sighed. “It wasn’t Baxter’s fault, but I blamed him because he brought the news. That expression ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’ makes so much more sense now.”

“Hopefully in the future, you won’t make the same mistake.”

“I hope not. And I also hope Mother won’t hurt Baxter . . . but I don’t have any real faith in that.” Barney’s expression darkened. “After a lifetime of hurting us, what reason do I have to believe that it will be different?”

“None, I suppose. Except maybe the fact that she is voluntarily reaching out when she never did before?”

“Oh, she might actually want to reconnect, like she says,” Barney said. “But the question is whether she will keep with it or if she’ll find it too difficult when it starts interfering more and more with her precious social circle. Frankly, I don’t think she’ll give up her social activities or status for us. And then Baxter will be hurt again.”

“If that really happens, he will need you more than ever.”

“I’ve never been there for him before,” Barney retorted. “There’s no reason to believe I will be in the future.”

“You’re there for him every time you try to help him on our encounters.”

“I could never be there for him in much of any other way,” Barney objected. “I’m not someone you can have a heart-to-heart with.”

“We do it all the time.”

Barney’s shoulders slumped. “I feel closer to a computer than to my own brother. Something is wrong with that somewhere.”

“Many people find it easier to talk with someone who isn’t a family member. That doesn’t mean, however, that someday you and Baxter can’t be as close.”

“I’m not holding my breath,” Barney sneered.

“Baxter is the only brother you’ve got. And from the sound of things, he’s also the only family member you can rely on. Someday I won’t be enough, Buddy. Someday you’ll need Baxter too.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Barney got up from the bed and brought the laptop to the table. He set it down and then sat down to work with the beginnings of his invention.

Vincent just watched him, quiet now. Barney was so different from Baxter in many ways, but in other ways they were similar. They both loved science. They had both suffered pain and heartache throughout their lives. And when Vincent had met them, they had each been broken souls. Barney still was.

Vincent hadn't been able to help Baxter for any length of time when he had been drowning in his own mind, suffocated by the fly's presence. Maybe by his encouragement of Baxter's crazed revenge schemes, Vincent had only made the problem worse. With Barney, whose anger was generally directed at Baxter, Vincent had to take the stance of trying to keep him from lashing out and encouraging him to be better. He had never been in such a curious and uncomfortable position of being stuck in the middle before. But he still hoped that one day, Barney would heal enough to actively try harder to repair things with Baxter. Then, maybe, the three of them could be a family together.

In the meantime, Vincent would continue to watch over Barney and serve as his listening board and conscience. And maybe with their combined efforts, he and Baxter could help Barney mend his soul.


End file.
